


(Not) Alone

by hikarimew



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Personas (Persona Series), Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Depression, Happy Ending?, Horror, Human/Monster Romance, M/M, P5 protagonist called Akira Kurusu, POV Alternating, sojiro and futaba show up but not enough to warrant a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27440701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikarimew/pseuds/hikarimew
Summary: it’s wrong, everything’s wrong. That can’t be goro akechi, even though that’s the name people call it, because that’s not a person. it can’t be, the colors are wrong, the shape is wrong, but he’s looking at death, at the same eyes in his nightmare, vicious and unrepentant and looking straight at him
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	(Not) Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kimonoforlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimonoforlove/gifts).



_ He can’t see anything. There’s things whipping around him- Black feathers (just the feathers, nothing else, where are the birds?) and a horrible, constant noise. A buzzing that won’t end, that echoes into his bones in erratic waves, moving him with the storm as if he were nothing more than one of those feathers, tossed about at the whims of the gale. _

_ There’s nothing to do but wait, because it’s coming. It always does, in the end. The void face, the black and white horns, the seething hatred in hidden eyes and the jagged teeth _

_ the last thing he sees, tearing through the curtain keeping him from the rest of the world. _

Akira shot up with a start. There’s someone next to him, the passenger next to him, worriedly asking him something, but his head’s still swimming too much to process their words. Luckily, he doesn’t have to try for long, as the announcement for his stop rings out, and he takes the chance to flee the scene. He knows he’s been screaming in his sleep recently, and he can’t make it stop.

He takes long strides out of the station and into Tokyo proper. It’s hot here, hotter than the country. The unseasonal heat and humidity haven’t been doing anyone well. It grabs you and chokes you in its grip, leaves you unable to breathe, takes away your eyes and mind so every shadow in the corner of your eye seems to be jumping at you, ready to devour.

But Tokyo still has something of a place for him. There wasn’t anywhere he could go, stay,  _ be _ , in his hometown anymore. Not even his own parents wanted anything to do with him since the incident. So he’s here, in Tokyo, going to stay with the acquaintance of an acquaintance and his nightmares. His new home.

\--

His first day at Shujin is a lot like his life had been until now ( _ of course the promises of a fresh start, of his records being secret, were all lies) _ , pinned under a hundred different stares. It makes him feel alien, inhuman, like a wild animal caught under a lens, a thing to be studied. As if he had claws and fangs and blood on his hands. 

His second day, however, is unexpected. People hardly forget when they have a new toy to play with, and he’s just shiny enough to grab the eyes of the masses. But he might as well not exist,  _ (not today) _ . He keeps his ears open, and within minutes he’s rewarded with information. Nobody else seems to be talking about anything other than Goro Akechi- Third year, princely, mysterious and beloved- wont to disappear for days or weeks at a time, with no rhyme or reason for his absences, only rumours and speculation.    
  
For about a minute, he’s curious about Goro, maybe even thankful. He’s stolen the hearts and attention span of the school, and lets Akira fade into the shadows and breathe, pretending he’s just another student, walking the halls, heading to class, just like a person might

it’s wrong, everything’s wrong. That can’t be Goro Akechi, even though that’s the name people call it, because that’s not a person. It can’t be, the colors are wrong, the shape is wrong, but he’s looking at death, at the same eyes in his nightmare, vicious and unrepentant and looking straight at him

Akira turns and runs. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he can’t care, he just needs to get away from that gaze, feeling those eyes claw into him every step of the way.   
  


  
  


How do you even sleep after something like that? Akira doesn’t know. There’s still adrenaline coursing through his veins, the feeling of vulnerability clinging to him even at Leblanc. Despite the heat, he’s closed up the room as best he can, but he can’t even hear the dingy old table fan over the buzzing and the cicadas. Had they always been this loud? Or is he just so on edge every noise is amplified, a warning sign?

He doesn’t know. What he does know is that, when he wakes up, the locked window is open.

* * *

  
  


Tokyo is teeming with people, no matter the hour. Even now, in the dead of night, nobody bats an eye at the couple walking through its streets. What attention they get is because Goro is Goro, and humans are all wrong in the head. They can tell he’s different, but they don’t react like they should in the face of danger. Instead, they watch him with admiration, listen raptly to his every empty word, cling to his arms whenever offered, letting him lead them wherever might be easiest to eat.

Except one.

The odd transfer student, who despite hiding himself behind fake glass lenses can see more clearly than anyone else, see that he is a  _ monster _ , and react accordingly. But there is no running from the cramped cage of Shujin, and different class years can’t save him forever. It drives his curiosity, his  _ need _ , to corner him, to force him into casual conversation and watch him try to keep himself in check near “ Goro-senpai”, knowing that nobody else sees, nobody else understands, and he cannot risk disparaging the beloved prince of the school.

The best part is, Akira is actually  _ interesting _ . Managing to maintain compelling conversation even as his legs twitch as he wants to flee, but keeping himself in control. Goro wants more of that, not of boring people who can’t feel the sting of danger until it’s too late, and they’re nothing but an empty pile of flesh and bones the police the next day will chalk up to an OD that was eaten by stray dogs,  _ how sad, how unfortunate, _ not even thinking about the bone marrow staining Goro’s tongue as he takes the long way back home.

It’s not a home, not really, just a place to idle away since he can’t sleep,  _ (hasn’t needed to in years) _ , so he passes through Yongen-Jaya, watching Akira through the window. The glass panels distort and multiply the image, like watching through the eye of a fly, and it’s amusing for a moment, just as is how Akira moves and twitches as if he knows he’s being watched, knows he’s being hunted and his time is running out, like a prisoner on death row. 

Goro’s been patient, keeping this routine for a day, a week, a month, but he wants more. conversations at the train station and cups of coffee aren’t enough, anymore. This curiosity, this specimen, this person; He wants  _ more. _

* * *

Akira’s losing track of how many times he’s woken up to his window thrown wide open when he knows he latched it closed before falling asleep. He commits to his futile routine, checking the windows, the locks, brushing away the dead wasp on the sill without thinking too much about anything. He feels like there’s something wrong with him, too weak and head too muddled- The heat? The lack of sleep? His nightmares have changed, since coming to Tokyo. He almost misses the blinding flurry, the comfort of not seeing what danger was around until it was too late.

Now it’s all Goro, Goro, Goro. The  _ Akechi-senpai _ who stresses the honorific and talks to him like a normal person and keeps reaching out to him, reaching after him, for reasons he can’t understand  _ (maybe because a murderer can’t judge a delinquent? _ ), but when he looks at Goro, he sees someone staring right at him. With malice or not he can’t tell, not in reality, not in his nightmares-

_ he sees Goro in an alley, tearing out a man’s throat with his (pincers) teeth, Goro at school, a crown on his head as he takes his pick of the crowd to be torn to pieces and presented to him on a silver platter, Goro outside his window, watching him sleep and toss and turn in bed, Goro climbing over him as he’s frozen in bed, faces so close he can smell the death and decay from his soft lips and the warmth of a fresh kill from where their bodies press together-- _

Goro in Leblanc, sitting at the counter, Sojiro nowhere to be found.

He pinches himself, and he’s slow to do so. His body isn’t responding properly, but the pain is real, and so are the inhuman fangs in Goro’s smile, the last thing he sees before he blacks out.

He flounders  _ (not swims) _ in and out of consciousness, enough to recognize Takemi at one point, before going back under. He hopes at least the clinic was real, because the entire time, he feels buzzing on his skin, as if an army of bees had landed on him, warning him of danger should he move, breathe wrong. 

_ (It’s probably the being unconscious, but he can’t seem to mind.) _

  
  


Time stops mattering when you can’t tell if you’re awake or asleep. When he finally opens his eyes again _ (and they burn and protest at the effort, so he’s probably opening them for real,)  _ the curtains are drawn and he can’t tell if it’s night or day. He knows he’s warm, that there’s a weight on the bed next to him. Akira doesn’t want to look, but the corners of his eyes betray him, confirming that, yes, it  _ is _ Goro lying at his side, watching him intently.

His mouth feels numb, and he’s not sure air is passing his throat properly right now, but Akira manages to make sounds, slow and hesitant until he can string them into words, “ _ where’s Sojiro?” _

Goro chuckles, and Akira can feel the reverberations from how close they’re pressed up against another,  _ “I have no idea. He was in a panic when I saw him, something about his daughter freaking out and running away? He told me to tell you he’ll be back as soon as he can, _ ” and his tone makes it incredibly clear he had something to do with it, though Akira can’t possibly imagine what.

Then again, he couldn’t really even have imagined Sojiro had a daughter, or much anything else about the man. All he knew was that he’d taken him in when his own parents had cast him aside, and gave him two full meals a day. He was the closest adult in his life, and this just highlighted how despairing the distance really was. If this was close, what was he to the rest of the world? He relied on Sojiro for a lot, but he had to wonder if, should he disappear, the man would even notice.

Akira didn’t have an answer to that thought.

_ “You still haven’t asked why I’m here,”  _ Goro says, almost like a pouting child who knows his present is right after the party but he wants to see it now, and it’s perplexing, because,

_ “to kill me, of course. That’s why you’ve been following me around, right?” _

To Akira, Goro is like a cat, toying with his food before delivering the final blow. Maybe the adrenaline of fearing for his life so often makes him taste better. Or maybe he just wants a change of pace, to test himself as an active predator for once, he  _ knows _ Goro is bored of just having his prey trip over themselves, throwing themselves at him. He sees enough of that every time he falls asleep,

but instead Goro laughs, not the usual polite laugh where he covers his mouth, no, he throws his head back and laughs openly, giving Akira a clear view of the extra set of teeth (fangs? pincers?) hidden closer to his throat, and honestly? He’s tired. It’s annoying, to be laughed at, at this point. 

_ “Can’t you just rip my throat out and be done with it?” _

Goro stops laughing, though his grin is still large and savage, cupping Akira’s face and tenderly running his thumb over his cheek. For the first time, he’s not wearing gloves, and Akira can feel the stinger that begins right below his wrist, and even if his body feels too heavy for him to move and see it, he’s seen enough of it whenever he shuts his eyes to know it’s death. Just like all of Goro.

He closes his eyes, sighs and waits, but the sting never comes, and Goro calls him an idiot,  _ “how could I ever want to get rid of the one person who I can truly be myself around?” _ and no, it’s the opposite. He wants Akira by his side forever. Goro admits he’s already started trying and experimenting, too, considering how Akira never fell for his pheromones. That’s why he stung him over two days ago, and he’s still not dead- and Goro is nearly salivating at seeing what might become of him.

Akira tries to laugh, but his chuckles sound too much like there’s poison in his lungs and he’s drowning on dry land, “ _ pretty sure I’m dying, Goro.” _

_ “I thought you’d learned it was Akechi-senpai” _

_ “We’re well past that point, don’t you think?  _

Goro playfully pokes him on the forehead, cheerfully out that the people he kills don’t usually end up with bright gold eyes ( _ not that Akira can see himself,)  _ and anyway, he’s certain Akira will still change more, and he can’t wait to see it.

Akira makes an effort, and bats his hands away. It doesn’t sound too bad. Goro has been one of the few people who looked at him, truly at him, since even before moving to Tokyo. He knows what he’s been going through, in a sea of people and being completely alone. If his body let him, he’d laugh, at how he ended up closer to a monster than any other human.

It’ll be nice, to not be alone anymore.

* * *

A few days later, Sojiro Sakura finally managed to return to Leblanc. He still hadn’t got much of an explanation from Futaba, besides “ **_he’s_ ** _ too close _ ”, much less gotten the girl to agree to return to the city with him. 

_ (Ever since her mother died, she’d gotten her hands on far too much of Wakaba’s research, and the mere mention of insects was enough to send her into a panic. So she’d locked herself away in as sealed a room as she could build for herself, and he did what he could.) _

But Futaba wasn’t the only person he was responsible for. He hoped Kurusu wasn’t too upset about being left in a hurry like this. He’d sit the boy down, make him coffee, explain what he could about the situation. Maybe even take a Sunday out to the country hotel Futaba had locked herself in now, so they could actually meet.

Sighing, he opened the door to the cafe, and had to step away from the door as soon as it swung open. The place reeked, and he couldn’t say what it was- Only that it was somehow  _ wrong _ . Once he composed himself, he ran in, straight for the attic with worry, ignoring the crackling of the discarded wing shells he stepped on.

The attic was empty. On the bed, there was something. A cracked cocoon, big as a coffin, and full of things he didn’t want to look at, not now.

  
  
  
  
  
_ “Oh. So he’s not alone, anymore,” _ was all Futaba said when he called her. Maybe he should be glad. 

**Author's Note:**

> human seen as a monster vs monster in human skin falling in love? good shit


End file.
